


There be Griffons

by Bock_Bock_Motherclucker



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, The Cake is Still a Lie, The Taint Sucks, Warden Stuff, griffons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bock_Bock_Motherclucker/pseuds/Bock_Bock_Motherclucker
Summary: Ten years after the Fifth Blight Thedas is a changed world. Or at least it should be , if anything Neria Surana and her friends did to prevent the end of said world mattered. Yet a Blighted and self-proclaimed god seeks to wreak havoc but Neria has other concerns, like the song in her head and the four hundred-year old eggs she's been given.Plus, she owes Tabris a cake.





	1. Chapter 1

Warden Commander Neria Surana ran her hands along the silverite staff balanced on her lap, its metal cold enough to burn any non-mage who dared to touch it. The staff, Winter's Breath, was a physical extentsion of her mind, and the haze of frost gave her irritation corporeal form. Skyhold's chilled mountain air drifted in through the open window and dropped the room's temperature even further. Given her affinity for elemental magic, especially ice spells, she lacked any discomfort.

The room she'd been given was comfortable yet a misfortune to look upon--unless one favored the eclectic style of the Free Marches. The rugs appeared Antivan, and she supposed they had been a lovely mix of vibrant colors a decade and a dozen dirty boots ago. The bedding was a mess of faded reds and yellows which reminded her of meat and tallow. The curtains were blue Orleasian lace, but the frayed edges suggested they'd lost the Grand Game. "I could set the drapes ablaze and call it a favor to the Inquisition," she muttered. 

After propping Winter's Breath up against a wall she made her way to the room's lone window and resisted the urge to scream. Over the course of a fortnight she's wandered the keep, caught up with Leilana, bargained with a dwarf named Varric for a favor from the Kirkwall city guard, spoke to the leader of the Rebel Mages at length and she'd yet to accomplish what she had came to Skyhold to do: Treat with the bloody Inquisitor.

She'd a letter ahead of her. Rarely did she take the time to be as cordial and gracious, thanking Adaar for pardoning the Wardens and politely inquiring about the Inquisition's claim to Griffion Wing Keep. Without questioning why the head of the Ferelden Grey Wardens was interested in an Orlesian outpost, an equally cordial (or arse--kissing, as Xavin would put it) invitation arrived. It was written in an elegant script which Neria doubted could belong to a former Tal-Vasoth mercenary.

Josephine Montilyet had met Neria and her company at Skyhold's gates. The woman was skilled at her job, Neria had to admit. She'd explained the situation so adroitly that Neria hadn't been so much as annoyed. Demons, the ambassador had told her, ran rampant in the Exalted Plains. The creatures were possessing corpses and killing Orleasian soliders and being otherwise inconvenient. Inquistitor Adaar had received pleas for aid shortly after inviting Neria and, unable to fail the people, left but promised her return would be swift.

Having survived the Fifth Blight, Neria understood the troubles of a world that needed constant saving. Given her experience, she would have normally sought to be of assistance yet given her current... condition she doubted she'd be as formitable as she'd once been. 

Her grip on the window sill tightened as delicate whispered notes bubbled up, effervescent and haunting, from the depths of her mind. A chill ran through her like the tip of a blade caressing her spine. Transfixed and unaware she pulled on the fade. Ice burst from her white-knuckled hands and crackled its way up the frame of the window and coated the glass. 

The unbidden spell was enough to startle her and she pressed her icy hands to her now throbbing temples. She groaned, slumping against the wall to remain upright. "I'm fine," she assured the walls, speaking out of habit. She reached for Winter's Bane and clenched her fists around it. She still had more to accomplish, the song in her head be damned. Neria took a deep breath and made for Skyhold's garden.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind caught Xavin Tabris's hair, mixing the salt spray into his red curls. Sea birds screamed above him and sent their shadows flitting along the deck. In fit of glee, he spread his arms and let his billowing sleeves be filled by the wind.

"Envying the gulls now are you, amor?" Zevran curled around him, as warm and as fluid as molten gold. Xavin chuckled and interlocked his fingers with his lover's.

"And live my whole soddin' life in fear of Shale? Bugger that." Xavin said.

The Antivan laughed, and tightened his arms around him. "As wise as you are handsome, my dear."

"Flatter." Xavin said. Zevran nuzzled closer and hummed against his ear. He was content like this, Xavin noted.His lover thrived while dancing from danger to safety, from chaos to calm. 

With the calm breeze and gentle rocking of the sea it was almost possible to forget they'd been fighting for their lives the past four months. The Crows didn't take kindly to having their bases raided and their leaders killed. Even with the small army Zevran--or the Black Shadow as he'd become known--had assembled over the past decade, surviving was no small feat. 

Despite dodging blades and other various projectile weapons, the only thing that put a damper on their stay was a letter. "Return," was it all it said, and it was all it needed to. Neria Surana, their friend and Xavin's commander, was known for being curt and cryptic. Not that he minded. He was only newly literate and no amount of practice stopped the letters from doing acrobatics before his eyes.

The order still struck his as odd, given that Neria had never summoned him back to Vigil's Keep before. Whatever her reason might be he knew it must be serious and that alone made him nervous enough to turn their ship around and take their chances with the Crows. 

But he'd sworn to follow her into the myriad messes their order and their friends got them into. Plus, she owed him a cake.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite months living in the Ferelden countryside, Neria had never seen so much elfroot. Skyhold's garden overflowing with the herb. Other planters held assorted flora, including deathroot and blood lotus. People milled about, either passing through or retiring to stone benches. She hadn't come to the garden for leisure. Ice mages and plants were not typically friends. 

Only one woman she knew defied the fact and she expected to find her here. As rumor had it, the Orleasian court had been Morrigan's most recent haunt but the woman Neria knew was a child of the Wilds and would not be confined to stone walls. 

"Hello." Had she been a lesser person, the clear, quite voice would have scared her out of her skin. 

A young boy stood beside her. At a glance, she knew him. He was small for a human boy, and the faint tips of his ears suggested elvhen blood. He hair was dark and curly, his skin tawny, and his eyes were as bright as his mother's.

"You must be Kieran," She said, and gave him the smile she had used for the Circle's neonates. 

When Theron Mahariel returned, the only thing he'd mentioned of his son had been his name.

Kieran regarded her with an intensity she hadn't expected from a child. He tilted his head and pursed his lips before he spoke: "You hear them, not the liar. You hear them singing, calling you down to meet them."

All the blood drained from Neria's face and the smile fell from her lips. The temperature seemed to drop, like she'd been pulled into the grave. 

_Neria fell to her knees. The chaotic world around her was muted by her ringing ears. Her lungs ached to reject the putrid air around her._

__

_The Archdemon Urithemiel lay dead before her, Fang--Xavin's dagger-- still embedded in its left eye socket. After dealing the final blow, Xavin had nearly been thrown from the top of Fort Drakon by the dragon's thrashing. She lay crumbled and unmoving in against a wall._

____

_Neria would have ran to her, but her body felt distant and abstract. The world dimmed and blurred, like an oil painting in poor light. The contents of her stomach left her, her consciousness followed suit._

_____ _

"Kieran!" Morrigan strode over, Theron in tow. She set her hand on her son's shoulder and looked at Neria the faintest trace of concern. It was enough to break Neria from her shock. She stood and straightened her spine until it felt as strong and stiff as silverite. 

_____ _

Theron gave her a curious glace, as he often had over the past few months, then returned his gaze to his son.

_____ _

"Come, da'len," He said, "It is time for your lessons."

_____ _

Kieran's eyes brightened even more, with an intensity that could start a blaze. With a nod in her direction, Theron and his son left the garden.

_____ _

Neria pushed her long dark hair off her clammy neck. "Lessons? Is Theron training him with the bow?"

_____ _

Morrigan turned, and gestured for Neria to follow. "And the blade. Whether Kieran requires training in the arcane is yet to be known. 'Tis a dangerous world, we will not allow him to be defenseless."

_____ _

"I see the wisdom in that." She said. As they walked, she ignored the stares and whispers they inspired, a witch and a Warden. Despite the Inquisitor's displays of approval for both mages and the Grey Wardens, many of Skyhold's inhabitants still seemed to be holding on to their fears.

_____ _

Ironic, she thought, considering they'd all be dead or darkspawn without us. 

_____ _

"I thought you would,"  the witch took a seat in the gazebo, "though I doubt you brought Theron here just to see his son." Her yellow eyes hardened, reminding Neria of how brittle and volatile their relationship had been during the Blight. 

_____ _

"Not just, admittedly." 

_____ _

"Oh? And what are you owed for your generosity?"

_____ _

Neria leaned against a support beam and crossed her arms. "I need your Eluvian."

_____ _

The other woman's scoff could have taken the straw roof off a cottage. "My Eluvian?! Of which you know nothing about!"

_____ _

"I know it's my best option." She said through gritted teeth and went on to tell Morrigan her plan. When she was finished the air was as tense as her neck and back. 

_____ _

"What does Theron think of this? Or have you yet to tell him?"

_____ _

Neria shook her head, "I can't go forward without your aid and approval."

_____ _

Morrigan's brows furrowed. "I understand the need, but the means are a gamble--as I hope you're aware."

_____ _

"Do you see any other way?" Neria asked.

_____ _

"I suppose not," She pursed her lips, "Speak to Theron. See if he will agree to take on such risks."

_____ _

"He'll return, Morrigan."

_____ _

She stood and stepped close to Neria. If the aura of cold air surrounding her was any indication, she was even more displeased with the situation than she let on. "I have no doubt in this abilities, or his sense of duty." With that she left, and despite the people staring at her and the whispers in her head, Neria felt alone.                                                                           

_____ _


	4. Chapter 4

After the calm seas of the first part of their voyage gave way to choppy surf and stormy waters, Xavin nearly wept when the skyline of Amaranthine came into view. They arrived in the early morning and slipped through the still-sleeping city without incident. When they wore commoner's clothes-cheap linens with little dye and no adornment-no stranger (save a few sharp-eyed nobles and Crows) saw the Hero of Ferelden and the Black Shadow, just a pair of elves likely scurrying back to work.

It was odd, yet it was a relief. Neither elf had asked for the titles or the pasts that produced them. Which wasn't to say Xavin would wish any of her life away, considering how happy she was with her present; Assassination attempts, emptying her guts into a churning sea, and cryptic letters aside, at least.

Vigil's Keep stood before them, far more imposing than it had been a decade ago. Neria had fortified the keep to the point where some would call her paranoid for it. After all they had faced together, Xavin couldn't blame her. Given the value the fortress held to her friend, she was surprised the mage had left at all.

"Does something trouble you, caro mio?" Zevran asked, linking his arm with Xavin's.

The redhead frowned. "I just…I dunno, isn't this weird? Neria up and leavin' out of nowhere."

He raised an intensely groomed brow, "I wish our Surana would leave 'out of nowhere', as you say, it may do her good, but I doubt this is the case."

"You're prob'ly right-"

"Am I ever not?"

Xavin turned and tapped him on the nose. "Hush, you. I'm just worried. Maybe she's finally getting us the cake we're owed."

"Amor, the assassin was directly in front of the cake-"

"Hey, lovebirds, incoming!"

The blond's lip curled and he detached from his lover before taking a step back with all of his damnable grace. Xavin glanced towards the beast bounding towards her, eyes wide, and yelled: "Bubbs!"

A wave of fur, goofiness, and saliva pinned her to the ground. Zevran couldn't help but chuckle while she cried out and attempted to dodge the mabari's tongue. "Aah! I missed you too, darn it! BUBBA OFF!"

With an indignant "Whuff!" Bubba hopped over to Zevran, who promptly began scratching the dog's ears.

The herald of Xavin's canine-inflicted doom sauntered over, swishing his blue robes with every step.

"Hayden Amell, you look as bewitching as ever." Zevran said with a smile.

Hayden smirked, "Hear that, Xav? Your husband thinks I'm hot."

Xavin sat up, wiping away dog spittle and adjusting her backpack. "I'd bloody hope so, no one likes cold Ham."

The mage rolled his blue eyes. "I can only hope that nickname dies before I do."

"This is all very lovely, I assure you both, but-" Zevran stopped scratching Bubba's ears long enough to help Xavin to her feet, "we have important business to attend to, yes?"

Hayden's face lit up with more joy than Xavin could remember seeing since Anders…well, since Anders. She noticed the tiny wounds visible on his hands- odd, considering his skill as a healer. Several feathers and pieces of hay were caught in his long brown braid, and his thick-rimmed glasses were askew. He was never known for being stylish, but he was rarely this unkempt.

"That we do. Just don't bring Bubba, he gets jealous."


	5. Chapter 5

Of all of Skyhold’s myriad rooms, the Inquisitor chose to live at the top of a bloody tower. Neria understood the logic behind her preference. It was a sound tactical choice and it was reasonable for a leader to be set above their followers, figuratively and literally. None of that meant she was happy to climb flight after flight of rickety wooden stairs.

Although the alternative to the stairs was to wait outside the War Room until Herah Adaar decided to leave her bedroom, and Neria had waited enough. The Inquisitor had returned late in the night and refused an audience until she “didn’t smell like the inside of a corpse and slept for more than four hours”, as Leliana had relayed to her. Had she not already waited for two weeks she might have been fine with waiting past noon. Might.

Instead she stormed up the stairs with the fury of a war drum. She restrained herself when it came to knocking, choosing three rapid taps instead of blowing the door over. From inside the chamber she heard a groan and a startled chuckle. After a series of rustles and creaks, the door opened a crack and she was granted a glimpse of the tallest woman she had ever seen.

“Inquisitor Adaar, I presume?” She asked.

The woman opened the door wide. She wore a grey samite robe over her thickly muscled body. Her tangled auburn hair fell down to her shoulders between two wicked sharp black horns, their tips pointed up to the ceiling. Black war paint smeared around her pale yellow eyes. A faint smell of ozone clung to her, hinting that she may not have been happy with Neria’s interruption.

Annoyance and amusement warred on Adaar’s features, and the latter declared its victory with a smirk. “If the griffon on your freshly shined armor is any indication, I _presume_ you’re Neria. And I’m more of Herah than an adaar at the moment.” She gestured for Neria to enter and closed the door behind them.

“She’s trying to be punny.” Said a massive Qunari man seated on the bed in the center of the room. Even while only wearing a painfully yellow sheet wrapped around his waist he was intimidating. No doubt many of Skyhold’s inhabitants kept their distance. She remembered how most common folk reacted to Sten, though she didn’t allow herself to think much about him.

“Implying that she’s more of a woman than a weapon at the moment, I take it?”

The man, who needed no introduction as the Iron Bull, opened his mouth to reply but Herah cut him off. “If your next comment involves me being the one ‘taking it’, I will hurl you from the balcony.” She shot him a glance as she sat down onto a white Orlesian sofa.

“I was just about to ask the lady about how she knew a bit of Qunlat.” He said. Herah rolled her eyes.

“Your Arishok traveled with me, while he was a sten.” Given what she’d heard of Bull, from what Leliana was willing to share, she doubted he had really needed to ask.

Herah reached for a glass and a silver pitcher and began to pour some red wine. She held the glass out for Neria. Wine did little for the ache in her skull, but it did enough that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse it. She drank deeply from the glass as Herah smiled and poured her own.

“None for you, Iron Bull?”

“I’m really more of an ale guy.”

Herah flicked her free hand dismissively. “He has a flask here somewhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I would if you hadn’t emptied it.”

“Hush, honey, our guest has important things she wants to discuss. Do you mind if Bull stays?”

_Will it prevent you from telling him later?_ Neria doubted it. “No, I don’t.”

“Good, I’d rather not get up.”

“Afraid of walking around a Warden Commander without any smalls?” Herah asked with a grin.

“I’ve watched the King of Ferelden dance the Remigold in a dress and saw your Arishok steal a cookie from a small child, you’ll find that very little phases me.” That roused a laugh from both of them, a reaction that she wasn’t used to causing.

For all the banter, Neria hadn’t forgotten Herah’s reputation. She doubted the woman sucked the marrow from the bones of her fallen enemies, as some rumors alleged, but people where learning to fear her for more than her appearance. She was known to be as lethal with a shield and a spear as she was with spells. Her political foes seemed to find themselves displaced by unlucky circumstances and clandestine machinations.

Neria didn’t imagine she’d meet a similar fate, but she wasn’t looking forward to attempting to negotiate with someone so accustomed to getting her way. Part of her wanted to simply sit, drink all Herah’s wine, and discuss nothing more important than the weather. If she really wanted to pay that part of her any mind, she would have gotten on a ship and left this all behind long ago. Yet here she was.

“As I’ve stated in my letter, the Wardens are grateful for your support when you had the power to dissolve part of our Order. Given you’ve shown great prudence in your dealings with us before, I was hoping you would continue to do so by recognizing our claims to both Griffon Wing Keep and Adamant Fortress.”

“Your claims to strongholds long abandoned? And as much as I’m starting to like you, why am I not speaking to an Orlesian Warden about this?” Herah took a long drink of her wine.

“They were abandoned because they were a burden to man. We have rarely had a surplus of recruits like what the death of the Circles has given us. What was a strain then will be a blessing to us now. I can assure you, Vigil’s Keep cannot hold the numbers that Weisshaupt or other keeps can accommodate.

“We are not as territorial as sovereign nations; a Warden is a Warden, Orlesian or Ferelden. We have a need for larger fortresses. If our Orlesian counterparts had the will to continuously hold either keep they could have done so. The need didn’t exist then, now it does.” She intentionally left out Clarel’s recent occupation.

Bull spoke first, for an instant she thought she say a flicker of anger in his eye. “You’re thinking of putting green recruits next to the Abyssal Reach?”

“Capable mages and former-templars, yes. I have good, competent people to train then. If darkspawn choose to pour out of the Abyss, we’ll be ready.” _If your lover is kind enough to heed me,_ she thought.

Herah grabbed the pitcher to refill both their glasses. “And what of the Venatori?”

“Humans have thinner skin than darkspawn. Their blood can wash the green off my recruits.” From the booming laugh that followed, she wagered she’d earned Bull’s approval. As nice as that was, it wasn’t what she needed. Herah didn’t strike her as the type to be swayed by what a lover thought.

“Are you asking for a full withdrawal of the Inquisition’s troops?” Herah asked before pressing her lips to her glass. Her eyes were knife-sharp, and Neria didn’t envy anyone who met her on the field.

“Yes. I know how much I’m asking for, yet think of all the resources you will be forced to spend to maintain the fortresses, when you could have us—your sworn allies—hold the Approach for you. It would another way for us to show you how deep our gratitude runs.”

Bull and Herah shared a glance. “Boss, she’s good.”

“I know,” Herah fixed her gaze on Neria again. “I also know that you need Griffon Wing and Adamant for more than new recruits. You need their weyrs.”

Neria nearly dropped her glass to the floor. It took everything she had to hold back the flush that was threatening to spread across her neck and face. “I suppose Leliana wouldn’t work for you if she didn’t trust you with secrets, including mine.”

“Don’t be so hard on Red, she’s got good judgement.”

Herah pouted, the expression was purely comical on her. “I have red hair too, Bull.”

“ _Dyed_ red hair, it looks damn good but Leliana gets the nickname, Boss.”

“I think ‘Boss’ suits you better anyway.” Neria said.

Herah rolled her eyes. “You’re getting what you came for, you don’t need to keep stroking my ego. I have only one condition.”

“Which would be?” Neria cringed internally.

“I want to see a griffon.”


End file.
